


Gràs Dhè

by wisdoms_daughter0704



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 15:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15513270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdoms_daughter0704/pseuds/wisdoms_daughter0704
Summary: Jamie promised not to go after Jonathan Randall, but he broke that promise. Canon divergence about a well placed punch and how it alters the circumstances around our favorite Scot and Sassenach.I love Diana, but sometimes she thinks that death needs to occur to accompany angst. Here’s the proof that the two aren’t mutually inclusive.





	1. We’re Here

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it past the summary, props to you. This is how I have decided to fix that minor storyline in France where we gain like 8 problems with one stone. You’ll have to read to figure out what those fixes are.  
> Book readers- this would cut off just after the first break in chapter 24 of Dragonfly in Amber  
> Show watchers- try to forget anything that happened after 2x06, Best Laid Schemes around minute 43.

**We’re Here**

  
I finally trudged back in after Mother Hildegard had allowed me to rise from my borrowed bed and send for a coach. I silently thanked, or prayed, the good mother’s insistence that I was not to walk the streets of Paris in my condition. Thinking back to that night with Le Disciple, I suppressed a shudder. No, I won’t think of that, I told myself as I stepped into the doorway.

  
I froze when I heard stuttered breaths, fearing the worst, and found all my strength restored, rushing toward the sound. I found Jamie, huddled and dishevelled, in front of our bed.

  
“Jamie,” I breathed, and his head came up.

  
“Mo nighean donn,” I could see the tears welling as I crossed the room quicker than my condition should have allowed. I sat next to him, pulling him into my arms, feeling the stress he had yet to tell me. “Claire, mo graidh, I’m so glad ye’re here. I dinna think I could have lasted much longer wi’out ye.”

  
“I am here, Jamie.” I lifted his head so our eyes met, and pulled his hand to my swell, “We’re here.”

  
“It is my being here I wasna certain of, Claire.” The set of his mouth changed then, readying himself to start his story.

  
“The fool prince had racked up a debt at Maison Elise, and I had gone wi’ the wee lad to see what could be done. I was discussing matters and terms with Madame Elise when I heard Fergus scream from down the hall. I had told him to stay near, but…”

  
“But,” I said offering him time to breathe, “he’s an eleven-year-old boy who earned his meals from light fingers.” We exchanged a small smile, and he continued.

  
“Aye. I went to the lad and found none other than the rat Randall, taking the lad.” My hands went to his, reassuring that I was still right there, that he wasn’t alone. “Of course, I threw the bastard off him, threw a few fists at his face as well. I fear I may have reinjured my hand again, Sassenach.” I turned the hand over in my own, assessing the damage silently, allowing him to complete his tale. “Once I knew the bastard was down, I grabbed Fergus and told Elise and Charles they could figure it out on their own or follow me home, but I wasna going to be in the same place as Jack Randall a minute longer.”

  
I looked around the room frantically for Fergus’s small figure, and could not find it, “Where is Fergus? Is he badly hurt? Should I go tend to him?” I hadn’t realized I had stood, but Jamie’s hand caught mine and pulled me back down.

  
“I do think the lad could do wi’ your touch, Sassenach, but he’s asleep in his quarters at the moment.” I relaxed a bit at that.

  
“You said you didn’t know if you would be here or not. Why? What were you going to do?” I said the words for my own benefit; I knew exactly what was running through Jamie’s head in regards to Jonathan Randall.

  
“I didna ken if I would be here or no, Sassenach, for I meant to run him through right then and there, only I didna have any blade on me at the time.” He smiled weakly at me. “Then I thought to challenge him to a duel, my promise to you be damned with my soul, but, by God’s grace, he wasna conscious for me to do so, and I didna intend to stay long enough to have my weakness proven.” He had my hands in the vice of his own, willing to share the pain, and I could tell his hand wasn’t as injured as he thought it was.

  
“Then I thank God’s grace that he was.” I squeezed back against the vice, and smiled as our eyes met. “And not for Frank’s sake, either. For your own. And mine, and the baby’s.” His eyes flashed with a panic, looking down at my belly.

  
“The bairn?”

  
“We’re all right at the moment, Jamie, but the reason I stayed at the Hopital was because I bled last night. We’re all right now,” I said quickly to stifle Jamie’s newfound worry spreading across his face. “Mother Hildegard assured me it is quite a normal thing to experience at this stage. But I was worried myself about your plan and how it went, and I don’t think that did either of us any favors.” I rubbed his hand, which was in turn, rubbing my belly. “If you had been engaged with Randall, I think I would have chased after you, and damned the consequences.” Tears were threatening my own eyes now.

  
“I didna go, mo nighean donn. I didna go for you, for our promise. I swallowed my pride and rage to be here with you.” He pulled me closer now, needing to feel the both of us. I felt his thoughts as if he were willing them to me; to know his action did not cause me to be reckless with the two most precious things in his life; my life, and that of our child. “I willna risk either of ye, Fergus either, not for my own revenge. If the cost for me having you and the bairn safe and alive is that Jack Randall lives, I’d gladly let the bastard live.” He looked down at me, so I would know the seriousness of that statement. “He willna live anywhere near my family though.” We both laughed a bit at that.

  
We sat there for a bit, just calm in the knowledge that we were both there and not causing the other to worry. I pulled away first, “You stay here,” and before Jamie could protest, I went out in the hall to talk to Suzette. I came back into the room and pulled Jamie to his feet. “I am going to get you into bed. By my count you haven’t slept in nearly two days, and I will not have you collapsing from exhaustion without Murtagh here to help heave you onto the bed.”

  
Jamie laughed, and I knew he was seeing me, all of nearly seven months gone, trying to lift him into bed by myself. But I was right, he was about to topple over with lack of sleep and the events of the last week. We walked over to bed, and I started to work on his breeks laces. “What did ye tell the lass?”

  
“I told her that if Fergus wakes, she should come get me at once, but other than that, we are not to be disturbed.”

  
Jamie looked at me, eyebrow cocked, “Did ye not get enough sleep at the hospital, Sassenach? I would’ve thought the Mother would have tied ye down had ye disagreed with her orders.” He helped me with my own laces, “And I willna let you into another dress with stays for the rest of yer time wi’ the bairn.”

  
“I got plenty of sleep between the kickings of your child every fifteen minutes.” I pulled the pins out of my hair, and Jamie helped smooth away the tangles. “But mostly, I just want you to hold me, to know you are actually here with me.”

  
Jamie pulled me onto the bed, clothes discarded on the floor for one of the maids to pick up, and wrapped his arms around his life and world, quickly drifting into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is a bit heavy, so prepare yourselves.  
> -Elizabeth Bonds


	2. My Brave Lad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: this deals with the assault of Fergus by Black Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we've gotten past ignoring a certain scene in a field, we can get into the fun stuff. And by fun I mean really hard to write because I don't want to put my babies through this, but it makes the story that much better in the long run.

**My Brave Lad**

Suzette had come to me in the late hours of the evening to say that Fergus was awake, and I had immediately thrown on shift and dressing gown.  Jamie followed suit and came behind me, with my medical kit in tow, and we went up the stairs.

 

Fergus lay facing the door, and when I walked through the door, a faint smile caught his face.  “Milady! Are you well? Is all well with _la petit bairn_?”

 

I knew this stall tactic and had even used it myself a few times; I humoured him, for the sake of his nerves. “We are both very well, Fergus.  It was very wise of you to allow me to stay at the hospital.”

 

Fergus smiled, and then caught glimpse of Jamie and the medical kit.  In consequence, he shrunk back into the bedclothes.

 

“Fergus, Milord told me what happened, would you let me look you over, and you could tell me what happened yourself?” His eyes went to Jamie again, fear apparent. 

 

“I dinna have to be here if ye dinna wish it, lad.” Jamie set the kit down on the bed, kneeling to meet Fergus’s eye.  “Just know that neither Claire nor I will think any less of ye because of what ye went through. It wasna yer fault.”

 

Jamie turned to leave, “No, milord. You can stay. I just do not know how to put words to it.”

 

“Use French if that works any better,” Jamie said, settling himself on a chair in the corner, leaving me to my work. “I ken sometimes my _Gàidhlig_ fits the words more than English ever could.”

 

“Oui, milord,” and he began recounting his trauma to us, while I searched his body for injuries.  Jamie’s advice proved fruitful as Fergus fell slowly into French, his mother tongue soothing his mind.

 

“I went with milord to Maison Elise, as with Murtagh gone, I was his second,” he winced as I found a particularly deep bruise on arm. “You told me to stay close, milord, but you were with the prince and my fingers are not for being idle.” Jamie stood and cradled the boy’s head in his hands, giving him a reassuring smile.  “I saw that a door was open, with no one inside, so I went in.  There was a bottle of perfume on the table.  It smelled so nice, milady, I thought you would like it.” He started to cry, and my heart broke, “I still have it. It is in my pocket.”  I saw Jamie move, and behind me, I heard the shuffling of fabric, I knew that he had slipped the bottle into his own pocket. “I did not hear the man until he closed the door behind me.  He said to me, ‘You’re not what I ordered, but you’ll do,’ and I became very scared.” The small boy in my arms breathed through his sobs, and I held back my own as I saw the evidence of Randall’s proclivities, numbered to more than two dozen bruises across his arms and back. “He grabbed me, and threw me on the bed, tore at my breeches, and… and…”

 

“It’s alright, Fergus. You don’t have to tell us about that.” I had gotten to the more delicate part of my examination, but I didn’t want to perform until he knew he was safe and protected, without any doubt.

 

“Then milord came in, he must have heard my screams, and the man was off of me, on the floor. Milord had knocked him out, and picked me up. I don’t even remember the journey home, milady.”

 

“Aye, I did hear yer screams. And I got ye home and away from that bastard as quickly as I could. I dinna remember much of the ride either.” He and I both gave Fergus a smile, and the familiarity of our touch.

 

“Fergus,” I mentally steadied myself for the next examination, “May I check your rear and legs?” He showed fear, but quickly steeled a brave face, sending a nod my way. “Good lad.” _Christ_ , he had another dozen bruises on his thighs and buttocks. By some miracle, he wasn’t torn, and I thanked any god that was listening. Fergus turned back over and waited for my assessment, “You did very well, Fergus, my brave lad. I know it may not seem like it, but your physical injuries are minor.” I didn’t expect to see him release a breath and relief upon his face. “You can get dressed and go with Suzette for something to eat, if you feel up to it. If you start to feel ill or sore, you find me at once, you hear?” His response came in the form of a fully nude body wrapping himself around me, careful to avoid my belly.

 

“ _Oui_ , milady, of course!” Fergus grabbed his nightshirt, which had fallen to the ground, and thrust it over his head. He made his way out of his room and down the stairs, presumably to fill his belly.

 

“While yer at it, take a bath, ye wee skunk!” And with that Jamie helped me up, collected my kit, and took me back to our room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did that one hurt too much? Sorry.  
> -Elizabeth Bondz


	3. To Be Rid Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little lighter, this one.

**To Be Rid Of**

“Two rapes in as many months, Jamie,” I breathed, falling into his arms after tending to our young French orphan. “We can’t keep this up.”

 

Jamie came around to my back, slowly kneading my shoulders, pressing his lips to my crown. “I ken, _mo graidh_ , I ken well.” He must have felt my strength leave me, and I let my head fall to his chest, and he could see the tears streaking my face. “Ye said the lad had no injuries save the bruises?”

 

I shuddered as I recalled no less than three dozen bruises I had seen on Fergus’s small body.  “No other _physical_ injuries, at least. You and I both know the damage Jack Randall can have on one’s mind.”

 

“Aye.” He wrapped his arms around me, and I drank in the warmth and strength he radiated. A knock came at the door, and I could feel his reluctance to let me go. “ _Oui_?” he shouted at the direction of the knock.

 

“I have supper for you and milady, Milord,” Suzette’s voice was thick and muffled through the wooden door.

 

“Mmphmm,” a sign I took as a sign of concession as he untwined from me and went to fetch our meal. “Thank ye, Suzette. Did the lad get his supper as well?”

 

“ _Oui_ , milord. And his bath as well.” I turned to see our housemaid beaming with pride at Jamie’s unspoken _job well done_ , and her skirts disappearing as he closed the door behind her.

 

Jamie placed the meal tray on the small table opposite my vanity, then returned to nuzzle my hair in a way that calmed us both. “He did seem alright when we left him, but I am still worried. Those wounds may take more than my touch and our soothing words.” I got to my feet and stretched, vertebrae making short and quick pops. Jamie, one hand around my waist and the other in my hand, supported me long enough to reach the chair in front of the fire.

 

“Aye, but Lord kens, yer words healed my mind as yer hands did my body, _mo graidh_.” He brought me a plate, and left a kiss on my lips as he went to get his own. He returned, setting his own plate down on the table that held his whisky and my tea, then his hand reached into his pocket and withdrew the glass vial from Fergus’s own breeches. “I kent good and well what this was afore I even looked at it.” He was right; if it had come from the possession of Jonathan Randall, there was one thing it would be without a doubt. And when Jamie raised the bottle up, I saw the delicate purple flowers suspended in the oil, praising Jamie for not smashing it right then and there. “Oil of lavender, I could smell it on Randall when I pulled him off Fergus, twas a miracle I didna vomit then.” I moved to take it from him, but Jamie just shook his head, “I’m alright now, Sassenach, I canna smell it in the bottle.” He placed the vial on the mantlepiece. “I was going to keep it,” he read the look of questioned panic on my face perfectly, as he always did, “not for myself, Claire, for Fergus. When he’s ready, I want him to have something of Randall’s to smash, destroy, or otherwise set his feelings on.”

 

I felt a sad smile come to my own face, “Would that have made you feel better? To have something of his to be rid of?” And then I remembered the brand we had removed, and tossed into the fire.

 

“Aye, ye’re remembering right, Sassenach. I did feel a bit better when that piece of him was gone, even if it didna do any damage to him.” He sat down and started picking at his plate, as I had been doing with mine.

 

Once our meal was finished, I accepted his help back to the vanity stool.  I didn’t need it just yet, but it was a comfort to feel his hands on me, protecting me and the child from something as insurmountable as gravity.  He picked up my hairbrush and started to ease the tangles from my bed-tousled curls. “You don’t have to do that. I’m quite capable of brushing my own hair.”

 

“Aye, _mo nighean donn,_ but I enjoy it so, would ye deny yer husband this small pleasure?”

 

Damn, he had me, and so I mustered up my best Scottish noise, “Mmphmm,” and enjoyed the pleasure I took for myself.

 

“I also ken if I leave this to ye, halfway through yer cursin’ at tangles and threatening to shave it all off, and I willna have that.  So, I’ll save ye the trouble and do it myself.” He gave an affectionate nuzzle to emphasize his point.

 

He was almost through when either of us spoke again. “Did I ever tell you that Fergus did this, after the dinner party?” Our eyes met in the reflection of the mirror, and he had a copper eyebrow raised. “After I had finished pacing,” I dodged a scolding look, “I sat down to try and tame them. I must’ve had the same look then that I did just now, because then Fergus held the brush in his hand, and was calmly teasing out all the tangles from my curls, so gentle you’d thought he was a chambermaid.”

 

Jamie ran the brush through one last curl, then placed it on the vanity, kneeling in front of me, “I’m glad he was here to care for ye when I was not able to.”

 

“Jamie, I…”

 

"I ken, Sassenach, but that night still pains me.  That I wasna there for ye and the bairn, or the lass.  But I’m here now.  For you and the bairn and for Fergus.  To let him know he’s no alone in this.  To let ye know I’ll never be taken from ye again.” His forehead met the curve of our growing child, “That our child willna have the childhood we had.” He stood and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to my feet, his lips on my forehead. “Let me take ye to bed, _mo chridhe_ , to show ye just how much ye mean to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all I got for this one.  
> -Elizabeth Bondz


	4. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet and a bit fluffy.

**Faith**

           

Jamie and I spent the better part of a fortnight together, in bed, relishing each other’s company.  No hospital, no winery, no prince, no ladies; just the two of us, wrapped in each other’s arms.

           

I awoke one late morning to a vibrato issuing from the vicinity of my stomach, large and heavy.  I smiled when I picked out scattered words in the _Gàidhlig_ from the mop of red resting on my breasts.  I didn’t need to be fluent to be able to discern the meaning of his whispers; the words of love, of protection, of joy.  I bring my hand up to stroke his hair, and I could have sworn he was purring.

           

“Did we wake ye, Sassenach?  God, don’t stop.” I smiled as I increased my efforts by massaging his scalp with my fingertips, caressing the thin scar that lay hidden.  He rolled over to face me, head still on my breast, and I switched hands to scrape his crown with my nails.  “I only wanted to speak to the bairn, and ye looked so peaceful.”

           

I leaned down to nuzzle his nose, eliciting a smile as a reward.  “Let’s see how much you want to speak with the baby when it’s born and wailing half the night.”

           

He twisted again, this time out of my reach, and lay so that we were nose to nose again, as we had fallen asleep the night before.  “I dinna care if I don’t get a wink of sleep for a year, _mo nighean donn_ , I will talk to the bairn until my voice gives out and my tongue goes numb, so long as ye get all the sleep ye desire.”  He pulled my forehead to meet his, then reached down to lay a hand on my swell, caressing it lovingly.  I felt the pinch from inside, as he must have felt it from without, for his eyes broke with mine, shooting to where his hand lay.  “Wee laddie’s getting a bit stronger now, isn’t he?”  He leaned back toward my belly, “You’ll be taking care no to hurt yer mam, aye, wean?”  He smiled back at me as he received response in a second kick.

           

I reached down and covered his hand with my own, drinking in the joy of his face.  “The way she kicks, I have a feeling she’s going to be much more Fraser than Beauchamp.  I just hope she manages not to inherit your appetite, or I’ll never get any sleep.”  I sat up, leaning against the headboard, and Jamie came up with me.

           

“How is it ye’re so sure the bairn is a girl, Sassenach?  Could very well be a boy, and ye’ll be the one confusing him,” he jested with the widest smile across his face.

           

“I have faith,” I said, smiling back at him.  “And it’s a wise mother who knows her child, true?

           

“Aye, Sassenach, that it is.”  He relinquished his contact with my belly for a more favoured position of sitting behind me, working the knots from my shoulders.  I leaned into his hands, and my head fell back to meet his chin.  “I dinna care whether it’s a lad or a lass, so long as it’s ours.”

           

A knock rapped upon the door, breaking into our little bubble.

           

“Milord,” it was Fergus, and they both rejoiced at him being up and moving about again.  “Murtagh is back from Portugal, he just arrived.”

           

“Thank Christ,” Jamie’s arms wrapped around me, his head falling to the crook of my neck.  He kissed my cheek and maneuvered his way off the bed, tossing my shift to me.  I rolled my eyes at him, but was thankful he knew my mind so well, knowing I would want to see Murtagh as much as he did.  I threw the shift over my head and readied myself to dismount the bed; Jamie grabbed my hand before I could.  “Fergus, would ye come in here and help Milady?” I shot him an _I’m not an invalid_ look to which he shot back a _You’ll do as I say, woman_ look, and I relented.

           

The door opened and in shot our little pickpocket.  Once I was firmly in Fergus’s care, Jamie kissed my knuckles and left the room, turning back only to smile in address, “Only to the parlor, Sassenach, I’ll bring the auld lout to ye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murtagh is back next chapter. I did my best to keep the time away historically accurate. It takes a while to get from France to Portugal and back.  
> -Elizabeth Bondz


	5. Cynical Auld Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murtagh!!!! I've given him a bit more backstory, I never got enough of him. I plan on using him a lot more than Diana does, fyi. I love him too much.

**Cynical Auld Bastard**

           

“Christ, lad, it seems a miracle I returned to find ye all in one piece,” I smiled behind my hand as Jamie stood taking his verbal thrashing from Murtagh.  To my amazement, he turned to address me next, “And I’m surprised he got ye to stay at home.  I thought for sure ye had another two weeks in you.”  I gave him a mocking smile and thrust my feet up onto the ottoman, to stake my idleness to him.

           

“I don’t think Mother Hildegard would let me back in if I begged, to be honest.  And she’s not a woman to oppose.”  Jamie stood behind me, hands rubbing my shoulders.  Suzette came in then, with a smile as big as the luncheon platter she was carrying, and I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of a smile underneath the beard of Murtagh’s face.

           

“So,” Murtagh started in as he shovelled meat and bread into his face, “have ye thought of what’s next in yer plan?” Jamie managed to snag a bit of cheese and bread and set it in front of me, intention clear.

           

“I’ve spoken with Duverney, who has spoken to the King.  They mean to quietly obtain a pardon for me from George as ‘gratitude.’”  The muscles in my back tensed, and for once I was glad Jamie did not have hold of them, nor had sight of my face.  I had yet to tell him of my suspicions of Louis.  The way he looked at me our first visit to Versailles, and after my encounter with Randall.  I did not like being looked at by a man who believed he should have everything he desired, whether it be taken or not, and I didn’t think Jamie would appreciate the “compliment” of the King of France desiring his wife.  My only hope was that the pardon was earned on Jamie’s merits alone, and not Louis desire for me.

           

“Oh, aye, that’s a start, I’ll grant ye,” Murtagh threw back another glass of whisky, and Jamie went to refill it.  “Did they manage to give ye a time when such a thing would come through?  I wouldna put it past the French fops to only be doin’ ye lipservice.”

           

“Yes, ye cynical auld bastard, Duverney came by just twa days ago saying they’re expecting the English ambassador back any day now.”

           

“So are ye planning on returning to Scotland as soon as it does come?”

           

I saw the half-nervous glance Jamie aimed at me, then turned back to Murtagh, “Nah, Claire’ll no be going anywhere until the bairn comes and is ready to travel.”  I smiled at him, a small gesture to let him know all was well.

           

Then Murtagh’s gaze turned to me, “What aren’t ye tellin’ me lad?  I can see it in yer face ye dinna want Claire to even leave the room.  What happened?”

           

I had been silent nearly the entire time since Murtagh had come in, but I found I it was now my turn to speak, “We had a bit of a scare the night before Jamie got back.” The color drained from Murtagh’s face, and Jamie jumped toward him.

           

“Dinna fash, man.  She and the bairn are fine.  Mother Hildegard wouldna have let her come home if she thought they were in any distress, aye?”

           

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.  “She also came by yesterday to check on us.  She assured Jamie that everything was fine.”

           

“Aye, but you’ll no be leaving the house anytime soon,” he shot back with a threatening smile.

           

Murtagh’s color returned, “You and the bairn, ye’re all right then?”

           

“Yes, we’re fine.  But if we need anything, you shall be the first to know.”  I put on my best reassuring smile, and was glad to see it was reciprocated.

           

“Good. I’ll not let ye be leaving me stuck with this dolt to myself ever again.  Even if ye did make my life twice as complicated.  At least I can send him to you when I’m done with him.” With that he stood up and crossed the room, swiping at Jamie’s head, and laying a hand on my shoulder.  “For the moment, I’m done wi’ the pair of ye.” 

           

He left us with a good deal of luncheon still for ourselves, and as he strode toward the door, Jamie bellowed, “Give Suzette a kiss fer me, aye!”

           

“Not bloody likely,” was the only response we got as Murtagh shut the door behind him, and Jamie and I took in our leftover lunch.

           

After we eaten what we could and left the rest to the servants, we made our way back to the room.  Jamie was carrying something, yet I didn’t know what it was. I had to say his name twice before I caught his attention.

           

“Oh, aye, Sassenach? Do ye need something, lass?”

           

“I was just thinking of Murtagh.  He seemed fine when recounting the heist and the get away, but when you mentioned not leaving because of me… Well, I’ve never seen him so anxious.  Not even when we were searching for you before Wentworth.”

           

He sat down beside me then, on the settle.  “Ye ken he loved my mother, aye?” I nodded, fearing my words would stick.  “He was so happy when she and Da had Willie and Jenny and me.  Then Willie died and his heart broke.  He wasna Willie’s godfather like he was mine, but it broke him all the same, perhaps because he knew what it meant I had to be now.  Then Mam was with child again, and he was happy again.  He thought I could use a wee brother or sister to boss around and such.  But then she died in childbed, and as much as it ripped out my father’s heart, it nearly killed Murtagh too.  To see her lying there, lifeless, wi’ the bairn, and to see my father’s joy torn from him, ne’er to return.”  His eyes met mine, then, and I understood all at once why Murtagh and Jamie were so much more concerned with my pregnancy than any other man I’d met in the 18th century was with their own wives.

           

“He’s been through it once, ye ken.  Watching the man he cares for lose his heart and life and bairn.  He doesna wish to see it again, nor do I intend to go through it myself.”  And I wrapped my arms around him, and wished I could call Murtagh back and bring him in too.  By sheer force of will, I was determined not to follow Ellen Fraser’s fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might want to have your shock blanket ready for the next chapter.  
> -Elizabeth Bondz


	6. Space of a Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my contribution to angst without completely breaking an audiences' heart.
> 
> Break in the middle is change of POV from Claire to Jamie.

**Space of a Breath**

           

Of course, the day the baby decides to come, Jamie is not home.  He had some matter at the warehouse that needed to be taken care of right away, and so I told him to go settle it, and that I would be here when he returned.  Three hours into my solitude, the pains started, and my waters had broken.  As much as I tried to stay calm, I was scared beyond belief.  Still, I sent Murtagh to fetch Jamie, and Fergus to Mother Hildegard while Suzette and the other servants readied the bed and the room.

           

It was Mother Hildegard who arrived first, and caught me in the middle of a contraction, squeezing the life out of the bedclothes.  “You must breathe, _ma chere_ ,” I heard as my vision swam with black spots.  All thoughts and training of being a nurse left my mind; for now I was not handling a birth, I was giving it.  I went through several bouts of unconsciousness, with vague ideas of Fergus at my side, or the odd notion that it seemed to be taking much longer than I imagined.  I heard a gruff voice, filled with panic, as I was rousing from one of these bouts.

           

“Monsieur Fraser, you cannot be here,” one of the sisters brought by Mother Hildegard chided, “Madame must be left to our care.”

           

“Pardon me, Sister, but I will not be told what I must do regarding my wife in my own house.” My eyes opened to see Jamie push past the sister and into the chamber, worry creasing his face.  “Sassenach,” he breathed as he reached my side, taking my hand and smoothing my hair with the other.

           

“Jamie,” I smiled leaning my cheek into his hand, grateful for the strength of his touch.  I wanted to yell at everyone else to go away, to leave me alone with Jamie, but then another contraction hit, and my vision went black.

           

“Claire!” I felt one hand in my own, the other cradling my head as the wave of pain overtook me.

* * *

 

My blood turned to ice in my veins as her hand crushed my own, and her body rigid with pain. _I am sorry, mo nighean donn, so verra sorry._ Her grip loosened and her neck went slack, but her eyes did not open.

           

“Monsieur,” I heard Mother Hildegard and cut my eyes in her direction, daring her to try and send me away. “There is a better place for you, to help your wife.  To sit behind her and astride, to hold her while she labors, may give her the strength she needs.”  I let out my breath, and crawled behind Claire’s stressed frame, pulling her head to my chest, my cheek leaned against her crown.  _Give me your pain, mo graidh,_ I whispered in Gaelic, _and I shall give you my strength_.

           

Then I heard sound, “Jamie,” weaker than before, but coupled with the pressing of her head to my chest, the accompanied by another bout of pain and labouring.  As I watched the mother do her work, and I held Claire in my arms I thought, _Christ, there are men who only want this from their wives.  To bear children and nothing else.  And the bastards dinna have the humanity to stay while their bairns are brought forth unto the world, while their wives are in unbearable pain_.  I pressed another kiss to her crown and gripped her hands again, feeling the cut of her rings against my fingers.  On her left, the gold of the man she left in the future, her past; of Randall’s issue, but that had loved her nonetheless.  And on her right, the one of silver, traced with thistles and inscribed with the love I bore for her before I knew she returned that love.  Tears spilled onto my cheeks as I pulled her right hand to my lips, _please, dinna leave me, Claire_.

           

“One large push, madame, that is all,” I thought she was speaking to me as much as to Claire.

           

“Once more, Sassenach, just once more is all we ask,” and I braced my hands against her own, willing the last of my strength to her body, when she let out a skelloch that caused the blood to drain from my body as her own went limp.  I saw Mother Hildegard pass the blood-covered bairn to the sister, but saw no movement nor heard any cries.  Panic like no other welled in me as Mother Hildegard turned back to Claire, clearly still tending to her, and _my_ bairn being carried away.  Torn between two pieces of my heart, failing to determine which one needed my presence more, when Murtagh said, “I’ll see to the bairn, lad.”

           

Holding her unmoving body in my arms, I prayed to all the saints in heaven to see her safe, to bring her back to me.  I only looked up to see Mother Hildegard wrapping a bloody thing in cloth and taking it away.  Panic and fear welled up in me yet again.

           

“Do not fear, Monsieur, it is only the afterbirth,” the mother informed me, “If it is not delivered as well, she would die from blood poisoning.”

           

“Thank you, Mother,” I said, then looked up to see Murtagh’s face, pinched with his own worry.  “The bairn?!”

           

“She isna breathing, lad,” he said with a calm hiding a storm.

           

“No!” I made to get up, gingerly as not to jostle Claire, and run to the other side of the room.

           

“Stay, Fraser.” The mother barked at me, “I will see to the child.”

           

I thought the panic had reached its peak, but at the situation around me, it swelled to greater heights.  My child, my wee daughter, struggling in this outside world, surrounded by strangers, with no name; Christ, I hadn’t even gotten to hold her, and neither had Claire.  Claire.  My heart.  My world.  My life.  Lying there in my arms, fighting for every breath; I was praying with every ounce that she would open her eyes, look at me, and call me a stubborn Scot.  My terror rose as I thought of her breath stopping, of breath never coming to the bairn.  Would I lose them both in the space of one of my own breaths?

           

Darkness crept in, fading my vision to a pinpoint, overtaking my senses, then I heard a wail that could wake the dead, and my head shot up, eyes scanning the room.  They caught sight of my daughter, wrapped and laying in Murtagh’s arms, coming toward me, and joy replaced some of the fear residing in my chest.

           

“Lad, come here so the mother can see to the lass, aye?” I did not want to release my touch of Claire, but the soundness of Murtagh’s words and the draw of my daughter’s cries helped me let go.  I held out my arms as my wee lass was laid into them, and I felt the smile come across my face.  “Have you and the lass spoke of names, then?”

           

The fear tried to gain hold once again, but I pushed it away as I recalled a conversation Claire and I had had not a month earlier, “Aye.  She is our wee Faith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? I think that's the biggest fix so far, right?   
> -Elizabeth Bondz


	7. God's Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that a cliffhanger? It was trying to be a minor one. Anyway, without further ado...

**God’s Grace**

           

_I watched in a haze as they carried off the small, bloodied thing that came from within me.  Wept as they had not let me hold her.  Thrashed and screamed because Jamie was not there, because his pride won out over us.  Curled in on myself, for now I was well and truly alone in the world._

_“_ _Please, my baby,” I cried, “I just want my baby.  I need to see my baby.”_

_“WHERE IS MY BABY?”_

“Claire!” suddenly, large, warm hands came to rest on my face.  “Wake up, Sassenach, I’m here _mo graidh_.”

           

I turned and opened my eyes to see Jamie’s face, lined with worry and fatigue, searching for pain in my own eyes.  I was dreaming, or rather, having a nightmare.  Jamie had been there, he had chosen us over pride; he had held me close as I’d labored away for our child.  The baby.

           

“Jamie!  What happened to the baby?  Where is the baby?” panic set in as I sat up and flung my head around, only to become dizzy and fall into Jamie’s arms.

           

“Hush, Sassenach, the bairn is just fine,” he pulled me closer to him, my back to his front, with his cheek against mine.  “She’s just there,” he pointed at the cradle that had been sent over by Louise, now housing an occupant.

           

I could see the shallow rise and fall of the figure, and relief flooded over me.  “She’s truly all right, Jamie?”  He kissed my temple, then slid from behind me, headed towards the cradle.  “Jamie! Don’t. I don’t want to wake her.”

           

“It’s all right, Sassenach, she sleeps like you do,” he said with a smile as he lowered her into my arms.

           

I was vaguely aware that Jamie had renewed his position behind me.  By the dim candlelight, I was in awe of every one of my tiny daughter’s features.  Ten fingers, ten toes, a few of the former wrapping around one of my own as I stroked them.  Even with her eyes closed, I could recognize the Fraser slant that I saw reflected in Jamie’s own.  And her hair, a fair amount for a newborn, was a deep cinnamon colour, stolen from the darker hues of Jamie’s own locks.

           

“She’s perfect, Jamie,” I said with tears falling from my eyes.

           

“Aye, that she is. And as beautiful as her mother, ken”

           

“Did you give her a name?  I’d hate to be the reason she’s only “Fraser” to go by her whole life.” I chuckled and stroked her cheek.

           

“I did, though, if ye have one better, we can use that one too.”  He gave his own chuckle and placed his hand under mine, holding her head.  “Faith.  I thought it would do her well, being a part of this family.”

           

“Jamie,” my voice caught as I spoke, “it’s perfect.”

           

We sat there, our own, small family cuddle together in the candlelit night, for a good long while, until my nightmare was well and truly put to rest.  And then I remembered the fatigue etching lines into Jamie’s face, and I turned to meet it.

           

“Why is it you look like you haven’t slept in a fortnight?” I asked without preamble.

           

“Because I haven’t, Sassenach.” He dryly laughed.

           

“You what?  Have you been sneaking out at night after I fall asleep?  Because you’re always back in bed before I wake up.”

           

“Claire,” he said very solemnly, “ye have been unconscious for near on a fortnight.  Since the bairn was born.”

           

I sat in shocked silence, looking from him to the child in my arms, attempting to process the notion that I was asleep for my daughter’s first two weeks of life.

           

“The two of ye gave me a fair fright that day.  Ye had lost so much blood, and were barely breathing, I could feel ye slipping away between my fingers.”  A ragged breath surged through him.  “And then the bairn didna breathe for near on three minutes after birth.  I thought for sure I was to lose both pieces of my heart and soul in the same hour.”

           

He wrapped his arms around the baby and me, as if holding his world together by sheer force of will.

           

“Mother Hildegard tended to ye as best she could before heading to the bairn.  And I just held ye.  I didna ken what to do, or which of ye needed me more, then she told me to stay with ye, so I did.  Then I heard Faith scream, and, Sassenach, she has got yer lungs to be sure.  So I went to her as Mother Hildegard tended to ye some more.  I didna ken how long it was before she came to me and told me ye were no waking, but that ye needed rest and I was to give it to ye.  Within an hour she had sent me things to see that the bairn was fed and cared for until ye were to wake.”

           

“Christ! Jamie, I hadn’t even thought… When was the last time she ate, is she hungry?”

           

“Calm lass, she’ll let us know when it’s time. And now that ye’re awake, she’ll get to hear yer voice again.”

           

“She hasn’t even seen my face, Jamie.  What if she doesn’t know who I am, and doesn’t nurse?”  
           

“Dinna fash, _mo nighean donn_ , I’ve thought of that already, aye?  I did grow up on a farm, and I ken how newborns react to their mams.”

           

I gave him a look of confusion and defiance, “Do you really think you can correlate human nursing to that of farmyard animals, James Fraser?”

           

He kissed me on the forehead and shot me the smile that melts my heart, “Aye, I do.  Every time I feed her, I do my best to sit ye up and lay her in yer arms.  That way she kens ye’re the one that’s keeping her fed, and I’m just the one that gets her there.”

           

At that precise moment, our wee Faith decided to put this theory to the test by waking up and wailing.

           

“If you’re wrong, James Fraser, you are sleeping in the alcove tonight.  With the baby.”

           

“And if I’m right, Sassenach, I’m sleeping with ye in my arms.”

           

I undid the neck of my shift and let it pool around my waist, exposing my very large and very full breasts. 

 

“Christ, Sassenach, if she doesna suckle them, I will.”

 

“No you won’t.” I said with a fair bit of resolve, although, he might have to, in order for me to get any sleep tonight.

 

Sure enough, however, as soon as I brought Faith towards me, she rooted out and latched on to my right breast, and began nursing to the relief of everyone in the room.  She finished with the right and immediately search out the left, emptying it with her fill as well, and after she released, I handed her to Jamie, who took her back to her crib.

 

“She may have my lungs, but she’s got your stomach,” I murmured as Jamie slid into bed and wrapped his arm around me.

 

“Aye, we needed some proof she’s a Fraser, did we no? With that hair and those eyes?  She could be anyone’s bairn.”  By some miracle he managed the kick I aimed at him under the bed, and pulled me closer.  “But by God’s grace, she’s ours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it to the end. And I did the thing that Diana likes to do: story, chapter, and a mention in the text- God's Grace. If you haven't figured it out yet, that's what Gràs Dhè means in Gaidhlig.
> 
> I'm working on more to follow this story up, to start a series. If you like this one, or want more of this sort of "believable canon divergence" please comment and leave kudos and all that good stuff.  
> -Elizabeth Bondz

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter is a bit heavy, so prepare yourselves.  
> -Elizabeth Bonds


End file.
